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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444502">Letting Go: A Guide to Healing and Self-Acceptance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah'>Laylah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Archive 81 (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Exploration, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Archived Tapes, Rat Has Poor Boundaries, Self-help</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:36:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You could be doing so much more with your body," Rat says softly. "When I first received my new form, I could scarcely rest until I had explored the exciting and dangerous and beautiful things it could do!"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Dan says. "You're pretty adventurous, Rat."</p>
<p>Rat giggles. "Bodies and the things they can become are the most wonderful adventure," he says. "Oh! Here." With a too-theatrical flourish, he produces a matte black cassette tape and holds it out to Dan. "Maybe this will help! Practice, you know. Exploring with less pressure."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Powell/Rat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fic In A Box</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Letting Go: A Guide to Healing and Self-Acceptance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayharley/gifts">fayharley</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Don't tell me you still aren't even a little bit curious," Rat says plaintively, leaning in too close, staring too intently. "Imagine the possibilities!"</p>
<p>Dan doesn't retreat. By now he knows that retreating only makes Rat advance further, which leads to still having your space invaded plus being off balance. "I don't know how to tell you this any more clearly," he says. "Not everybody is as excited about having <i>this</i>—" a gesture that vaguely encompasses his entire body— "done to them as you are!"</p>
<p>"But there's so much your body can do now! You should <i>try</i> to be a little more <i>grateful</i>," Rat says. He turns his back on Dan ostentatiously, the battered old chair creaking under his weight.</p>
<p><i>Grateful</i>? Dan wants to spit. This place is a nightmare, LMG are horrifying in the most disappointingly banal way possible, and the things they've done to him have made him enough of a freak that he couldn't go home even if he could get there. They, because Rat might be the one who held the bone saw but he wouldn't have been doing the surgery without LMG providing the warm body.</p>
<p>Well, maybe he would have, given his everything. But Dan wouldn't have been there.</p>
<p>This would be a really convenient time for Lou or Clara to fire up the radio with some questions. Of course, that means they don't. Dan is just sitting there, feeling the steady sub-audible clicking of his freakish body, watching Rat fidget and almost turn around to face him again before presumably remembering that he's offended. He's not going to feel guilty about hurting Rat's feelings.</p>
<p>He's not.</p>
<p>Rat sniffles.</p>
<p>"Goddamnit," Dan mutters. "Look." Rat turns around so fast Dan startles, and it takes him a second to remember what he was going to say. "I'm... Having trouble adjusting, all right? I'm not trying to insult your abilities or anything. The fact that you could do this is amazing, even if it's freaky as hell."</p>
<p>Rat lights up. "I'm so <i>glad</i>, Dan Powell, I would hate for this to put a damper on our burgeoning friendship!"</p>
<p>Their what? Dan sighs. "Right." He tries to shift in his seat to get more comfortable and then reminds himself for probably the fifteenth time today that "get comfortable" is not really a thing he does anymore.</p>
<p>"You could be doing so much more with your body," Rat says softly. "When I first received my new form, I could scarcely rest until I had explored the exciting and dangerous and beautiful things it could do!"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Dan says. "You're pretty adventurous, Rat."</p>
<p>Rat giggles. "Bodies and the things they can become are the most wonderful adventure," he says. "Oh! Here." With a too-theatrical flourish, he produces a matte black cassette tape and holds it out to Dan. "Maybe this will help! Practice, you know. Exploring with less pressure."</p>
<p>"Thanks," Dan says as he takes the tape. It looks ordinary—doesn't even have the handwritten labels of a lot of the ones in the archives—but he knows better than to think anything is ordinary here.</p>
<p>"Can I watch you try it?" Rat asks. He's leaning too close again.</p>
<p>"You said you couldn't listen to the tapes," Dan says. Not that he's worried about Rat or anything, but... Well. It'd be worse here if something happened to him, that's all.</p>
<p>"Oh, no, not those tapes. I can't listen to those. Nobody can safely listen to those! Nobody except you. You've been made special." Rat beams for a moment and then seems to realize that Dan's still not excited, or maybe remembers that he got off topic, or...something. "This one's nothing, though. Not part of the archive at all. I suspect anyone could listen to this one. It's probably fine."</p>
<p>He looks so hopeful. It must be frustrating for him to not be able to see—hear—observe? whatever, the results of his work in a real way. Apart from the baseline success of Dan still breathing and moving and doing roughly fifty percent human things despite being roughly forty percent other. "Sure. Okay. I guess I can just... Slip it in here, and..."</p>
<p>It definitely doesn't feel like the tapes from the archives. He isn't sure if he has the vocabulary to explain <i>how</i> it's different. There shouldn't be any way for it to have texture once he's slotted it into his...into him. Voices don't have colors, though this one is a soothing lavender-gray. It doesn't have any of the urgency that puts his nerves-and-other-things on edge when he's playing something from the archive.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>kjlaken the first step in this important process just by sitting down to listen. Kkkkdjk is a journey, and you begin that journey by making kkkkdk step. Over the next kkkkkjdk, you'll learn to engage your imagination in the safe and easy kkkkkkjk of letting your pain go.</p>
</blockquote>Dan realizes his eyes are closed when he feels the touch, and startles alert again. "What are you doing?"<p>Rat doesn't move. He feels warm. "I can feel the sounds vibrating through your body if I touch you here," he whispers, like it's a thrilling secret.</p>
<p>"That's weird, Rat," Dan tells him. He might honestly not know.</p>
<p>"You’re so judgmental, Dan Powell," says Rat. </p>
<p>"I'm just saying." Rat still hasn't pulled back, and maybe that's not terrible. He isn't touching anywhere especially private (<i>Is</i> there anywhere especially private when it comes to the guy who's opened you up and completely revised your insides in medically impossible ways? Things they don't cover in standard HR workplace harassment seminars) and it doesn't hurt. If he lets himself think about it, Dan misses that. Touch that doesn't hurt. The warmth of skin, the existence of gentleness as a concept. He almost says something, but Rat has a far-off expression like he's listening to the tape that's still playing.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>—may go in and out of paying attention, due to the kkkkkdklate you're likely to be in. There's no wrong way to kklkkkkkfffkkk. Take what is useful and leave the rest. Over time, the thoughts and feelings that are good for you will rikkkkklkhfk the others will kkkkkjk into the—</p>
</blockquote>Dan squirms. "Doesn't it bother you?" he asks. "The distortion or whatever that is?"<p>"The unlistenable peaks," Rat says dreamily. "The unknowable reaching toward the known. I could make further upgrades and see if they become clear to you."</p>
<p>"No!" Dan says. "No upgrades. This is fine."</p>
<p>"I do my best," Rat says. He's still touching Dan, more intently than before, gentle friction happening to something that shouldn't have nerve endings. "I worked hard on your body."</p>
<p>Well, that sounds weird, but no weirder than it feels, sensation going in and out of focus like drifting on the edge of sleep, like turning the dial on a radio trying to tease a weak signal out of all the static. It's not entirely comfortable but it's making Rat so fascinated.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The heart is the most vakkkkkkjkan and treating it with care and compassion will make your whole body kkkkkkfk. Imagine yourkkkkf as a placid lake, smooth and whole. Your kkkkjkk is a kkkrker gliding through the depths and looking to break the surface. Let it. The only way tkkkkkkk</p>
</blockquote>"Rat, what are you doing?"<p>"What does it feel like, Dan Powell?"</p>
<p>As soon as he asks it's hard to be sure. "It feels... like a sex thing."</p>
<p>"Hmm." Rat keeps moving, rhythmic and steady. "So you like it?"</p>
<p>"I—I don't know." Is that touch <i>inside</i> him? Is any of the radio equipment <i>him</i>?</p>
<p>"I like it. I like you. I'm proud of you. I want you to see how wonderful and dangerous and exciting your new body is."</p>
<p>"Right. Yeah."</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Take what is useful and leave the rest.</p>
</blockquote>"Here, Dan Powell, like this—aah! Yes, like that—"<p>The rhythmic clicking and popping sounds of a radio seeking a signal, a tape deck running without a cassette. Stuttering breath. </p>
<p>"Yes, oh, you're lovely, you're beautiful, like that, ah—ah—"</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>the thoughts and feelings that are good for you will rikkkkklkhfk</p>
</blockquote>They stop when the tape runs out. Abruptly, unceremoniously. Dan ejects it and hands it back to Rat. "Thanks," he says uncertainly.<p>"I hope it helped you to acclimate to your new body," Rat says earnestly.</p>
<p>"Yeah." It's easier to say yes than to say <i>I shouldn't have a new body to acclimate to</i> or <i>Was that actually sex just now</i> or <i>Did you know I could feel things through this stuff?</i></p>
<p>Or <i>How much are you acclimated to <span class="u">your</span> new body?</i></p>
<p>"Should I leave you to get some rest? You'll need to be prepared when the exploration team calls in again."</p>
<p>"...No," Dan says. He's not that tired and it just sounds lonely to be left here. "No, you can stick around. If you want."</p>
<p>"I do," Rat says, beaming at him. "I want that very much."</p>
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